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RP: NSS Acadia [Mission 4.5] Claw of the Beast

Henry grumbled upon hearing the roar from the Hostile Hospitaliers. He was the first to yell out, "Yes, myself and two friendlies need assistance, now get your ass down here."

Henry then attempted to try and get his radio tools working, trying to get the frequency of whoever was flying the Medevac, "Medevac, this is P1C Morris. I'll have to advise you to fly a little higher and prepare your countermeasures. I'm getting-"

Then he heard the distinctive report of rockets being fired and felt it prudent to relay the following information, "MISSILES INBOUND!"
Henry looked out the window of the monorail and noticed a plume of smoke and a shattered window, shortly followed by a falling chair from the building that overlooked the clearing.

"Sixth floor, building overlooking the clearing, we've got rocket-hopping hostiles," He radioed to the rest of the team with his calm radio demeanour starting to wane.
 
Alex stopped paying atention to Anselm. He was in no danger to live now. She looked out of one of glassless windows to see small blibs of light flying towards medevac. "Bloody hell," she said as it was her favourite sentence this day. She saw Sam, he was unconscius but not really hurt, but his Zweinhander was just lying there. She made a step to took the tweihander. "Hey Wolf catch!" she shouted and toss large railgun against Phaedra. She will be able to use it against enemy easily.
 
The Chief was about to call out contacts, before Morris did his job for him. Instead, the Chief raised his shotgun up to the window where the fire came from, raised the sight to account for the drop of the heavy slugs that were chambered, and fired, aiming for the right top corner of the window so that his slugs would penetrate through the wall on the bottom of the windowsill.

Based on the impact of his initial shot, Ran immediately began walking on slugs to the right, the aim being to put several slugs through the wall to "follow" any possible path the shooters in the window would take to retreat away from the window.

"I need shooters down here ASAP. We have to fuckin' cover these buildings! Fuck going into them; we don't have the manpower to just go in there and leave our wounded and medics in the train!" The slightly muffled sound of Anselm's voice stirred him a bit, though he wasn't sure that a trick of the mind would lead him into believing that his heavy gunner was up at this crucial moment, but just in case...

"AND GET OUR HEAVY GUNS UP ON THAT BUILDING!"
 
Phaedra finally climbed out of the train to meet up with the rest of the squad.

"Hey Wolf, catch!" shouted Alex. Phaedra turned to glance at the voice, but then her eyes went wide.

"Oh shit," thought Phaedra when Alex tossed the Zweilhander in her direction. She was barely able to catch the weapon by wrapping her right arm around it and then crouching to catch the other end of the weapon with her left thigh. She was thankful for once that her left leg was cybernetic, otherwise her thigh would have gained the largest bruise in history. Phaedra managed to heft the four-foot weapon into the crook under her right arm, her left arm still dangling uselessly from her shoulder.

"I need shooters down her ASAP!" said the Chief over the comm.

As quickly as she could Phaedra found cover behind some rubble in the street and set the mass driver up on its bipod. She unslung the GSAR, set it off to the side, and went prone behind the Zweilhander. Phaedra placed the stock of the weapon against her right shoulder and arranged her left arm into a supporting position before locking it in place. She hauled back on the weapon's bolt and then peered through scope.

Through her thermal vison she saw the outline of the hostile that had launched the missiles. Holding the grip as tightly as she could, she aimed the target reticle dead-center on the thermal outline's upper torso and pulled the trigger. The weapon boomed loudly and the weapon's stock slammed against her right shoulder.
 
Anselm looked around for his HPAR and found it hanging from the dramatically bent railing he'd slammed into on his way down, "and that's what you get, dammit," he snarled at the rail as it held his prized support weapon, mockingly, four feet too far for him to reach with what was probably something like a hairpin-turn for a leg.

"Hey, any dumbass that wants an actual heavy weapon..." he waited for the typical Nepleslian response which was a quick and angry, but more than mildly curious, glare over the shoulder, "right there," he pointed at the damnably close weapon in a fume, "check the fire selector inside the casing before you wind up knocking your arm off with the auto-fire," he huffed.

"By the way," he said grabbing Mayhew's pant-leg and tugging like a child that wanted a cookie from atop the fridge, "if you're not too busy with any other crippled fucks would you mind dosing me with enough painkillers to have an effect, splint my leg," he hadn't noticed her working on him and only woke up in time to hear her gripe, but what painkillers she may have given him were quickly wearing off, "and help me find a crutch so I can do something, dammit?"

Ah, 'dammit' the 'Nepleslian please and thank you', not to mention one of the most ubiquitous curses in existence. You'd almost think their kids ask politely like those pansy-arsed Yamataians and their cat-slaves. Not that Anselm or many other ID-SOLs were much different from Nekovalkyrja, but at least a Nepleslian was raised to enjoy the prospect of facing off against Old Scratch for lousy pay, shitty clusterfucks, and poor odds.
 
Alexandra looked back at Anselm. "Oh don't be such a baby. The way I see it you don't need pankillers. You mouth works just fine so it seem. Any by the way I already gave you some painkillers so work with what you have. And if you crawl yourself to the window I will get you you prized HPAR. You are only one able to shoot with that monster without armour anyway. So move you fat buttocks, it will get you mind of the pain." She said to him with devilish grin on her face and started climbing up again.

She got to the HPAR and slung large rifle over her shoulder. It was very heavy but she could do it. She was careful to not fall while bringing it bag down. "Here you go fathead," she said to Anselm as she gave him large rifle. "Release you anger on some mishu wankers."
 
Sean sat himself the rest of the way up, gingerly testing his arms and legs as he made his way to his feet. He glanced around, snorting at the quasi-idiotic interactions of his comrades, but slowly made his own way to the exit, swinging his legs out around the edge and dropping down, quickly moving to find somewhere with a bit more cover than the open ground. "So, are we going to be getting out of here sometime soon, or are these wimps with a ship going to keep sitting in their ship?" He quickly checked his Porcupine to make sure nothing was broken, and then followed the lead of those before him, putting rounds into the walls directly next to windows where he'd seen fire coming from.
 
Stalemate. It was a relative stalemate that went on for quite some time as the belted slugs got burned away. Matteo knew he couldn't just go after the wounded ID-SOL with only a knife. Even without a leg or two, it'd tear his head off his shoulders with bare hands. At the same time, it had been beneath the muzzle blast of not one, but two heavy machine guns. Could it even hear anything anymore? Time was running out fast, and the marine knew he couldn't just retreat; that was asking for a bullet in the back. But the corpse at his feet, the late gunner...it had to have something!

In the background, missiles sailed through the air, a heavy rifle barked, and plenty more was happening. Was it the train? He was tempted to look over his shoulder to view it, but that wasn't an option. As the last of the belted ammunition counted down Matteo kicked the corpse around in hopes of finding a handgun, an SMG, grenade, anything that would help! If he didn't find something with his right foot, leaping over to hide behind the engine block and tire wasn't something that would give much time.
 
"You're no fun, y'know that?" Anselm griped, snatching the anti-armor assault rifle out of Alex's hands after yanking himself to one foot easily, having performed a three-limbed crawl to the nearest set of upturned seats.

"Anybody got a target?" he asked, half hopping and half-limping into position by the blown out windows and partially opened door.
 
"Ah come on chalk. I am ton of fun," said Alex as shed moved to help Anselm walking. He was to prideful to crawl around. So she took one of his arm around her shoulders and help him wal.When they got to window Alex pointed to the windows. "Sixth floor fatty," she said and helped him to get into comfortable firing position. "And be careful of you ribs, fire in single fire only and wait for a while between volleys got that?" Alex really wouldn't like him to rip his lung with one of the broken rips, although nanobots from hypolathe should make them better by this time. Alex then unsinged her smg and started checking their surrounding for any other threat.
 
The two white colored hostiles would nod to Luca and resume tearing off the window so they could have ground level access to the train from where the front car had buried itself a few feet into the ground, working quickly with a full focus on getting to the injured inside the monorail even as the missiles rapidly closed the distance to the transport, the first to bouncing harmlessly off the shields, causing just enough damage to allow the second two to slide through. One would hit the right wing of the craft, tearing out a chunk of durandium while the second would glance off the top of the wing and continue onward to slam into the fins on the tail section. The Ship seemed to shrug off the blow for the time being, only rocking slightly as former pieces of the ship began to rain down, shards of metal falling to the ground and bouncing off the train.

After firing their rockets the team of ID-SOLs were already running for the building’s staircase, not bothering to wait and see what happened to their rockets. With thermal imaging being unreliable due to radioactive particles falling from the dark cloud of vaporized structures and people above them the running ID-Sols would already be out of the window by the time the Zweihander bolt crashed into the building, blowing a chunk out of the floor above them as they ran away from the weapons fire impacting the area they had just been standing in, “Ha, Missied us!” The ID-Sol carrying the rockets bragged right before his left ankle was amputated by a round passing through a wall, causing him to faceplant and drop the cloth rocket cases.

“FU*#ING OW!”

This left few targets for the marines, aside from the well armed pickup truck below the window that had just been shot out. Another nepleslian marine was standing ontop of it and someone else was hiding underneath. There were also three other ID-Sols that had snuck off into the clearing and had hidden among the jagged rocks, material, and fallout.

-----


The body that Matteo kicked over was clothed in a thick blanket. He had a bald head and features exactly the same as those of the ID-Sol Matteo was trying to kill. The ID-Sol also lacked a chest cavity entirely, bits of a leather belt were strapped around his shoulders and there were grenades on the bed of the truck… or perhaps they were his kidneys. Sense his gear and his organs were now resting in his chest cavity it was hard to tell which was which. There was also spare SMG ammo that was slick with blood in a belt around his waist and a submachine gun tapped to the side of the truck bed.

----

Anselm would be tapped on the shoulder by one of the white clad hostile power armors, after a quick scan of his internal state. “Come on, you’re out of the battle.” The power armored medic would say as he squatted down, preparing to wrap his arms around Anslem to carry him as gently as possible on the power armored shoulders. The other power armored soldier would end up asking, “Uh, Any of you guys senators?”
 
"I am a bloody queen of Yamatai," joked Alex in response to one fo the medic asking about senators. "But I can wait, there is a lot of other wounded to take care of."

"I know you guys are medics, but you have hostiles. Couldn't one of you like that this HPAR and coordinate with you ships scanner and take out these enemies?" She asked. She was not completely sure if she was serious herself. She just slinged her smg back on her backs and went to help with injured marines.
 
"huh, I thought you'd have more d@*ks in your mouth," The medic quipped as he looked for the next most injured person to help. "Time for you guys to get out of here. Only so much anti-rad meds to go around."
 
Luca blinked for a moment, "Uh, thanks. I think I'm in the wrong set. Excuse me," He helped himself up, and proceeded to sprint all the way back to Dawn Station, where he was supposed to be, "I knew I should've made a left turn at the dressing room!" His voice trailed off as he left the thread.

And nobody would ever speak of this ever again or remember it.

Henry, however, accepted the helping hand that was extended his way.
"I'm in no position to argue, am I?" Henry asked himself as he inspected himself for wounds with the doctor's aid. It'd eventually become apparent that he was taking short, sharp breaths. He also had bruising across his chest and a couple of cracked ribs.

"About those countermeasures," Henry advised shortly after the ship received its flogging and in between his inspection, "Seems like the ship was able to take it, but I'm not sure what else they've got in-" He paused for a moment to cough. He covered his mouth, and looked at his hand with a frown, "Store - dear me," He frowned at the sight of the blood, but he knew he had to keep his cool under the circumstances, or his mangrit would forever be tarnished.
 
"Next time take that d**** out of you butt before goin out," Alex replied to medic with calm voice, although inseide she was angry as hell itself. "I just had suggestion and you could say. I am too busy for exchanging my wits with some chauvinistic pig ." She added and moved next to towards Henry.

She quickly got to his positon. "Well I don't think you will see what next they have in store, but I am sure that Wolf and sarge can take care of it. Now let's me lend you a shoulder and get you in that medevac mate." That was what Alex said to Henry after pumping last bit in her hypolathe into him to slow the bleeding and help him survive. She completely ignored medics in Hostile. These were her marines and she was responsible for getting them back to ship alive.
 
Anselm snarled at the medic, ignoring him in favor of scanning windows and rooftops for targets, "I can still kill things, ya damn nursemaid, get somebody worse off first."

When the Hostile lowered itself to pick him up by force, the albino turned sharply and tapped the variety of of thus far ornamental hand grenades on his chest, "What's your favorite flavor of internal hemorrhage," he turned back to the window with a slight wince, "cause if you touch me, one of these is going up your ass."
 
'Lady Luck, I will worship you as my god forever!' Matteo thought. With a cool head, he quickly thought out his next move. As the marine depressed the butterfly trigger with one hand, he pulled out his standard issue utility knife with the other. Matteo moved. With more luck, the ID-SOL was completely deaf from receiving roughly 500 point blank muzzle blasts from a heavy machine gun. He released the mounted weapon as it emptied and quickly slit the belt of ammo on the corpse, tossing it over the side of the truck as the slashing movement reached it's peak. Hands free, he simultaneously grabbed hold of both the belt and the bloody SMG before leaping after the knife to the side of the truck opposite the ID-SOL.

And his luck started to run out; his ankle hit the side of the truck mid leap, spraining the other ankle which took all of the force of the landing. Matteo knew he couldn't stop, not now! The marine landed clumsly on his belly, and rolled behind the wheel opposite the ID-SOL. Grimacing with the minor annoyance, he flicked the safety off.

'Please don't leave me now Luck! I'll be gentle, I swear! In fact, we won't even do anything until you're ready!'
 
The medic closest to Henry would respond first, “We’re the only two medics left on the ship above us that just so happens to be filled full of people who are busy bleeding out so you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not interested in spending a second longer down here than I have to just to kill some f**cks with a rocket launcher.”

Outside of the wrecked train were a set of stretchers that had been lowered down from the ship hovering above. The cables suspending them just a few inches above the ground had an attached datajockey with a simple green up arrow displayed on it.



As Henry was taken away the medic would then move on to the next person he could find, tapping the Chief on the shoulder and shouting, “Time to go!”



Meanwhile the other medic would be pulling out his hypolathe, inputting commands on the side before jabbing it towards Anselm, looking to inject him with a cocktail of drugs that would make in incredibly drowsy. “I’m not paid enough to put up with this shit,” He mumbled, the words being expressed over the power armor’s speaker system.

---

Under the truck the ID-Sol had grabbed ahold of the underside lip of the truck, using it to pull himself out from under the truck towards the rear, figuring the Nepleslian solider was busy having fun with the machine gun he had started cooking a grenade, holding it for a few seconds before tossing it in a slow arc towards the truck bed, Apparently not having spotted the solider jumping off to the side.
 
Anselm almost whirled around in a fury, "Ghafk, nah-ahgan," the ornery marine slurred before passing out. To his credit, the HPAR remained firmly in his cybernetic's steel grip, the other hand slipping numbly off the trigger.
 
The Chief would raise his right shoulder sharply at the touch of the Medic, :roll: due to the fact that he was in the middle of loading a magazine full of slugs into his shotgun.

"I'm not fucking going until everyone else is evacuated!" The Chief spat out, clutching his shotgun. "I'm not out of here until our men are safe and theirs are all dead." There was a terrible anger brewing in Ran's widened eyes, tempered by an awful resolve to see to it that whomever threatened his fellow Nepleslians lay dead and bleeding on the street, it was almost insanity. "Get the others out! There's fire returned down the street towards hostiles, so there's gotta be more of us down here. Ask whomever the fuck bumblefuck it is in charge of you to send down more armor!"

At that, the Chief pressed the bolt release on his shotgun, chambering the first round in his shotgun. Making absolute sure that his shotgun was safe, the Chief turned to the medic and paused. Paused because he debated, for a split second even, whether or not saying anything before a possiblly suicidal charge would be too cheesy.

"No matter what, they will know fear today."

Making sure that his RPB was in a reversed grip at his left for quicker drawing and that his combat knife was there, the Chief scanned his surroundings for any possible threat, and got up from his kneeling position into a low crouch, before turning to the medic. "If I can't come back, give the squad to Morrison."

Clenching his teeth to strengthen his resolve against the mortifying possibility of death, the Chief started advancing on the upturned truck, firing slugs from his CQBS-A2 at the hostile Matteo was engaging, if nothing else but to suppress it so that the other Nepleslian could maneuver and destroy the threat.
 
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